


A Second Chance

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe, Banter, Bisexuality, Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Cock Slapping, Commitment, Cute, Cute Kids, Dating, Dave speaking Italian, Dirty Talk, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Facials, Falling In Love, Falling for each other, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Feels, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Healing from trauma, Intimacy, Language Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Parenthood, Phone Sex, Porn with Feelings, Self-Discovery, So much flirting, divorced!pet owner!Rossi, non-BAU AU, post-coital conversations, sad!widowed!Hotch, sending nudes, seriously so much flirting, sexy selfies, this is just silly and my way of getting back into this fandom after like 3000 years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: Widowed single dad Hotch meets recently-divorced Rossi and Rossi's 120 lb Neapolitan mastiff in this non-BAU AU. Jack likes the dog, Rossi likes Jack's dad... cute dating and feels and fluff (and eventual smut) await for Rossi and Hotch...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sweet fluffy non BAU AU. A bit of angst. Haley is dead but it's from a generic robbery-gone-wrong type home invasion, neither Hotch nor Rossi are profilers and they don't know each other yet. Just widowed!single!Dad meets divorced!single!dog owner in a park goodness.
> 
> Also, I decided this AU needed an AU dog as well, especially since I remember fuck all about the canon dog Rossi hunts with/apparently has according to the wiki. I've only recently started watching reruns again - I haven't seen the show otherwise in like... eight years or some shit. I don't know. So forgive me and all that. 
> 
> Anyway, I gave him a Neapolitan mastiff because they're a great Italian breed, they're GORGEOUS and I'm a huge fan of mastiffs in general. (My old boss used to have a bullmastiff and he was an absolute doll, and I used to know a dogo argentino who was also a sweetie. So I have a soft spot for them a mile wide. (Despite this, I own a chihuahua, lol. So I have no dog breed-ism. I love every dog.))
> 
> For anyone interested in Tosca's breed - check out the wikipedia page.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neapolitan_Mastiff

* * *

It happened in a matter of seconds. Aaron Hotchner had looked away just long enough to pay the vendor for his third cup of coffee of the morning and when he turned back to ask his son what kind of cookie he wanted, the boy had vanished. Fear was immediate – the kind of unmistakable, incomparable fear of any parent missing a child – and he left his coffee on the counter, running frantically through the park, calling Jack’s name as his heart-rate rose with mounting anxiety.

“Dad! Dad!”

Relief was short-lived. Though the initial horror abated, it returned in full force when Hotch located his son and saw, to his dismay, that the boy was all but pinned to the ground by the biggest dog he had ever seen in his life.

“Jack!”

Hotch raced over, grabbing his son by the shirt and hauling him out from under the dog.

“Are you okay? Did it hurt you?”

He whirled around and glared at the dog’s oblivious owner.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Your dog could’ve killed my son.”

The stranger shrugged.

“I doubt it. The most she’s ever managed to kill was an earwig, and that’s just because she sat on it by mistake.”

The shameless lack of an apology made Hotch lose his stride, sputtering in anger at the absolute _lack of fucks_ this guy seemed to give.

“Your son isn’t allergic, is he?”

“No, I like dogs!” Jack chirped unhelpfully.

“There you go. No danger here.”

Hotch looked down at Jack who was visibly shaking in excitement, so desperate was he to pet the dog again.

“Right,” Hotch said softly. “Go… go ahead, Jack.”

He and the dog owner watched boy and pup play together in silence for a minute or two.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch muttered awkwardly. “I just… I’m very protective of my son.”

“No, I should apologize. That wasn’t good of me. I see how you could’ve been scared – unfamiliar dog and all. Tosca’s a teddy bear, but you couldn’t have known that.”

Hotch raised his eyebrows like that, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Tosca?”

“What?” the other man countered, a touch defensive.

“Nothing – just keep her away from high places.”

His deadpan only made the joke hit harder. The dog owner cracked a wide grin.

“An opera fan? I’m impressed.”

“Not much of one. It’s not like Tosca’s a particularly obscure opera, though it’s a pretty unusual name for a dog.”

“Yeah, well. My ex-wife wanted to name him Puccini if we adopted a male. Get it? Pooch-ini?”

“Hah, yeah…”

The awkward silence that followed made Hotch intensely uncomfortable. All he could come up with to break it was ‘so… divorce, huh?’ and that was not an acceptable conversation piece for two strangers in a public park. Thankfully the other man extended a hand and saved the conversation from a painful end.

“I’m Rossi. David Rossi. Call me Dave.”

“Uh… Aaron. Hotchner. Hotch.”

“Aaron Hotchner Hotch, huh?”

Rossi’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m… I don’t typically engage in a lot of small talk.”

A pained look passed over the younger man’s face and he looked back to where his son was playing with Tosca.

“She’s really… big.”

Rossi’s laugh was warm and genuine.

“Yeah. Eats me out of house and home. You have a dog?”

“No – Jack wants us to get one, but he’s almost more than I can handle as it is.”

“I hear that. You seem like more of a cat person anyway.”

Hotch frowned.

“Meaning what?”

“Nothing – just an observation. Nothing wrong with cats. I have one myself, at home. A Persian, named –”

“Let me guess – Figaro.”

“Close. It’s Twinkie.”

Hotch snorted, shaking his head as he chuckled.

“Twinkie? As in the snack?”

“My ex named him – don’t blame me. He’s golden and when he lays down he kind of looks like a –”

“– a twinkie. Wow.”

Jack’s giggle caught his father’s attention. Tosca was enthusiastically licking his face.

“She’s gentler than she looks.”

“The product of hard work and good breeding and the best training money can buy. I had her socialized with kids and small animals when she was just a pup. The _mastino_ breed is like that. Great dogs, but they need structure.”

“Right. Mastino?”

“Neapolitan Mastiff.”

“Huh. Can’t say I’ve heard of them before.”

Rossi shrugged. He glanced sidelong at Hotch.

“They’re not exactly common. Hey, speaking of Neapolitan, how do you feel about taking this conversation elsewhere? I usually take Tosca to this dog-friendly ice cream shop on my way home.”

“What do they have, doggy popsicles?”

“Sundaes, actually. Beef and liver flavor.”

“Delicious.”

“They have gelato too, for their non-furry customers. And some kiddy choices for…?”

“Jack. His name’s Jack.”

“Right. What do you say? My treat – an apology for the scare Tosca gave you earlier.”

Hotch considered it. His son was grinning wider than he had in months, and looked as happy as he did in the old days, before his mother –

“Yes. That would be lovely. Let me just ask him – Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Dave is taking Tosca to a doggy ice cream parlor. Should we join him – they have human food too.”

“Do they have strawberry?”

Hotch looked over at Rossi and shrugged.

“Yes, they do, and I have it on good authority that it’s particularly tasty,” the older man replied with a smile.

A short walk and some easy conversation later and the four of them were sitting on the patio of the ice cream parlor while Tosca dug into a sundae. Jack squatted on the ground beside her, licking away at his strawberry ice cream waffle cone and watching the big dog eat. She was far more interesting than the grown-ups. This left the adults to talk.

“I had no idea this place was here. It’s nice,” Hotch remarked. Rossi nodded.

“It opened up a few months ago – about a month before I moved.”

“I figured I’d have noticed Tosca if you’d been a long-time resident. It’s a good neighborhood – quiet. That’s what brought me and my – that’s what brought me here.”

“I can’t say I planned on it, but my ex-wife got the house in the divorce. I said, take it, but I’m keeping Tosca. So that’s how I wound up sharing a studio apartment with a 120-pound dog. I’m glad to hear it’s quiet, thought the safety of the place is debatable. I mean, wasn’t there some violent home invasion around here about a year ago? I remember it from the news – I think that’s why my rent’s so cheap. Lowered property values and all that.”

Hotch visibly paled. He set his spoon back down in his lemon gelato. His hands, he noted, were shaking. Badly.

“I – I should get going. I have to buy some groceries and Jack has homework, so… yeah. Nice meeting you, Dave.”

Rossi raised his eyebrows, surprised at the abrupt shift in demeanor.

“Sure – I didn’t mean to keep you if you had plans. And likewise.”

Hotch spent a few moments coaxing a reluctant Jack up from playing with the dog. He turned back to Rossi and mangled a smile, well-aware that he probably looked miserable. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I guess so – here. Take my card. If you ever want me to bring Tosca to the park when Jack’s going to be there.”

Hotch took the piece of paper without even looking at it, and father and son left the shop.

“Tosca, I think Daddy may have put his foot in it, there,” Rossi said to the hulking canine beside him. A sinking feeling in his gut, he fished his phone out of his pocket and brought up a search engine. Sure enough, the top entry on the home invasion made him want to kick himself.

Robbery gone wrong. Woman killed – one Haley Hotchner. The guy had lost his wife.

_And he still lives in that house? Jesus…_

“Well, I’m an asshole,” he said aloud. “Come on, girl. Let’s go home and hope he calls so I can try to salvage some of this.”

Tosca, to her credit, was not the type to judge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little cute chapter. Rossi's laying it on pretty thick, lol.
> 
> Edit: fixed some minor continuity errors

* * *

Rossi was comfortably settled into an easy chair, feet up, with Tosca snoring on the ground beside him, when his phone rang, startling him out of his pre-sleep dozing and jerking him awake. Tosca barked once, thunderously, adding her disapproval at being woken to the mix. Leaning over with a grunt, Rossi grabbed his phone from the coffee table and lifted it to his ear.

“David Rossi?” he rumbled, ending with a yawn.

“Uh, hi Dave. It’s Aaron Hotchner – from the park.”

Rossi’s eyes widened in surprise and he settled back with a grin.

“Well, ‘hi’ yourself. It’s… two in the morning.”

“I know. I’m… I’m sorry. I had to apologize for earlier.”

“You had to apologize?”

“Yes. You had no way of knowing about my – about me. So… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. I’m sorry I did. How about we call it even, start again?”

Hotch took his time answering.

“Why… what exactly are you doing this for?”

“This…?”

“Being… nice. To my son. To me.”

Rossi scratched his chin.

“Can’t a guy just be nice?”

“Not to us, they can’t. Not after what happened.”

Hotch spoke with firmness, even coldness, in his voice.

“After… after your wife.”

“People pity us,” Hotch spat. “At Jack’s school – at the supermarket… at work. We never had close friends in the neighborhood and then, after it happened, everyone wanted to... look after us.”

“And you just wanted to be alone. I can’t say I blame you, but you can rest assured, my intentions were never so noble.”

“What?”

Rossi shrugged. At this point his chances were slim to none, but they were hardly likely to improve. Might as well go all-in.

“When you came over to get your son, I… noticed you, and thought I’d try my luck.”

“Try… your luck?”

“You’re cute, in an uptight kind of way.”

Silence followed, to the point that Rossi figured Hotch had, understandably, hung up, but just as he moved to do the same, the younger man spoke.

“Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why would you… I’m not… I’m not gay.”

“Neither am I, as it happens.”

“O-oh. Okay. I’m confused.”

“And I know enough to know when I’ve overstepped. I went into this in the hopes of maybe getting to know you better. I’d still like to, as friends, if you like.”

“No more than that – though. I mean, I’m flattered, honestly, but I’m –”

“Relax. You don’t have to justify your lack of interest. I just figured I owed you the truth.”

Hotch sighed.

“Well, thanks. I appreciate that.”

The silence that followed was tense, but not unbearable.

“Thank you. You made my son smile today, you and Tosca. These days I have to bend over backwards to get him interested in anything and he just lit up around her.”

“Would he like to go with her on her morning walk? I can meet you two at the park at seven-thirty and we can come back to my place for breakfast.”

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Hotch said, but there was a touch of weary amusement in his voice. “Dave, I barely know you.”

“And I barely know anyone here. I just moved – all my friends are in my old neighbourhood. Look, I can’t imagine what you and your son have been through, and I’m not going to insult you by pretending otherwise. What I do know is that, after my marriages fell apart, it helped to have friends around for distraction. People who didn’t ask questions – just let me be myself.”

“You might be ri– wait, _marriages?_ How many did you have?”

“Three. You have my permission to whistle, run, or call me a sentient dumpster fire.”

Hotch laughed, surprised.

“I’m not going to do that! It’s not my business. I’m sure you had your reasons for things not working out.”

“Hah, yeah. I drink, I smoke, and I care too much.”

“Well, as long as you don’t do the first two around Jack, it’s fine by me,” Hotch grinned. Rossi chuckled warmly.

“You sure you never flirted with men before? You’re not half bad.”

Rossi swore he could feel the heat of Hotch’s blush _through_ the phone.

“Relax,” he amended. “I’m just kidding. But seriously, how about it? Breakfast, dog walk… have you ever had fresh-baked _cornetto_ with a _cappuccino_?”

Rossi made an effort to pronounce the Italian perfectly. Just because Hotch was allegedly straight didn’t mean he wouldn’t put an effort in to be charming. Hell, where attractive people were concerned, charming was second nature to Dave.

“Mm… okay,” Hotch conceded. “Because Jack likes Tosca so much.”

“How about you?” Rossi answered, pushing his luck.

“Oh, I like her fine,” Hotch retorted, amused. Rossi laughed.

“Guess I walked into that one. Okay. Park tomorrow, seven-thirty?”

Hotch sighed and nodded.

“Okay, fine. But make sure you have something for Jack to eat – I doubt he’ll want anything fancy.”

“Cornflakes okay?”

“Cornflakes are great.”

“Good. Well, then, we should both get some sleep.”

“Oh, God, you’re right. Sorry. It’s – I don’t have the best sleep schedule. Goodnight, Dave.”

 _“Buona notte, bello,”_ Rossi rumbled, adding just enough heat to his tone that he heard Hotch’s breath catch. He was damned cute when he was flustered, Dave reflected. _Down boy. He’s not some cheap date. He’s a nice guy with a sweet kid. Go easy._

“... goodnight,” Hotch repeated softly, and hung up. Dave listened to the dead air on the line, smiling to himself like an idiot. He always did fall for people too easily.

“What do you think, girl? You think I have a chance?”

Tosca snored, jowls flapping, rolled onto her side, and farted. Dave shook his head.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. God, you stink.”

The pup snuffled and cracked open one eye, peering at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Go back to bed. You need your beauty sleep.”

_Hell, so do I._

“M’going to bed.”

He hauled himself across the apartment and flopped down on his rumpled sheets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I kind of love shameless!flirty!Rossi)
> 
> Say hello to another face from the BAU, only in this AU no one works there so yeah. The others from the team might feature in future... we'll see how things go.

* * *

In the end, seven-thirty proved too early to get Jack out of bed and dressed. Running late, as he often was since becoming a single parent, Hotch apologized in a call to Rossi’s cellphone. Rossi took it well.

“Ah, that’s kids for you. Don’t worry about it. Come over for breakfast anyway.”

There was no precedence for coming over – not without the dog walk, and Hotch knew it. Still, Jack had been excited to see the dog, and besides that, he didn’t want to spend another morning eating plain toast and feeling sorry for himself.

“Okay, see you at eight-thirty?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rossi agreed, and told him his address.

Hotch did a double-take when he first saw Rossi’s apartment.

He’d assumed, from the way the man described it, that he was living in a little dive somewhere. While his apartment was small, however, it was clear that, down on his luck or not, David Rossi was a wealthy man.

Hotch inadvertently held tighter to Jack’s hand as he entered the number next to _D. Rossi_ on the wall-mounted list of tenants into the buzzer. It rang twice and then picked up.

“Yeah?”

Rossi sounded distracted. Hotch clung to his son. This had been a mistake – this had been –

“Hi Dave!” Jack shouted excitedly. “Can we come up?”

“Sure, Jack, come on it.”

The buzzer sounded off and the door unlocked, and it was all Hotch could do to keep up with his son as the boy tore through the lobby.

When they got to Rossi’s unit, Hotch could smell smoke, faintly. He furrowed his brow and knocked hesitantly on the door.

“Dave?”

“Come in – it’s unlocked,” Rossi called back. Jack didn’t need to be told twice, tugging his father into the apartment.

Hotch suppressed a startled laugh at what he saw. Dave was wearing an apron and frantically fanning smoke out of an open window.

“That’s the last time I try to warm pastry in my toaster oven,” he groused. “Damn near blew the place up. Wife took everything but this piece of junk and the hot plate - keep your shoes on – I’m taking us out to eat.”

“Oh,” Hotch blinked. “Okay.”

Jack had already descended to play with the dog. He looked up from rubbing her belly.

“Can Taco come?”

“Taco?” Dave repeated, confused. Jack pointed down at the dog.

“Taco.”

He considered the nickname. Tosca was a bit high-brow for a kid who probably didn’t know his multiplication tables yet. He elected to roll with it.

“I think she’ll stay here for a while, but we can come back and pick her up after, take her to the park, if you have the time that is…?”

Hotch shrugged.

“Nothing on the calendar for today,” he admitted. Rossi grinned.

“Great. How do you feel about pancakes?”

“Yay!” Jack squealed. “Pancakes! Pancakes! Can I get pancakes, Daddy?”

Hotch shrugged.

“Sure.”

“That settles it,” Rossi beamed. “Hey, don’t tear the place up,” he told his dog, who ignored him, and flopped down in a sunbeam to doze. “Come on, we’ll take my car.”

The pancake house wasn’t fancy but at least it was independent and they made their batter fresh. More importantly, they also had a ball pit, which Jack was visibly itching to explore. The kid ordered chocolate chip pancakes with strawberry sauce and whipped cream, arguing adorably when his father insisted he pick a healthier option. (“Strawberry is a fruit, Dad!”) Rossi ordered Nutella and almond, and a cup of very strong coffee, and Hotch ordered blueberry with flax. Rossi snorted at that after the waitress left with the orders.

“Flax?”

“What?”

“This is Fat Marcie’s Pancake Shack, not Whole Foods.”

“Dietary fiber is very important,” Hotch said primly.

“Dad! Dad! Look at the dinosaur!”

Jack pointed excitedly to the picture on his place-mat.

“You wanna colour it, buddy? I can get you some crayons,” Rossi interjected. Jack nodded. Rossi flagged the waitress down and she scampered off, returning with a little dish of broken wax crayons. Jack selected a bright blue and started in on his dinosaur.

“So, I never asked,” Rossi said, making eye-contact with Hotch across the table. “What does Aaron Hotchner Hotch do for a living?”

Hotch couldn’t help but grin at the nickname.

“I’m a lawyer,” he said quietly. “Not very exciting but… there you go.”

“Ah, lawyers are alright. God knows I know enough of them. Three divorces’ll do that.”

“Mm. What about you? What’s your occupation?”

Rossi shrugged.

“Jack-of-all-trades. Writer. Former Marine.”

“Huh. Can't say I'd have guessed that. Very eclectic.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of mystery. Hey, that’s looking pretty good, kiddo – what’s with the purple tree?”

“That’s Dad,” Jack replied, addressing the little scribble beside his dinosaur.

“Of, course it is – and you’re the little green mushroom.”

“Noooo silly – that’s you. I’m the dinosaur.”

“Ah. You know, now that I look closely, there really is a resemblance.”

The pancakes arrived and Jack dove into his like he’d been starved, immediately getting whipped cream on his hands and face. Hotch watched him, brow furrowed, as he solemnly ate his own breakfast. Jack polished his dish off in about five minutes, and begged to go into the ball pit. Hotch agreed, but only if Jack cleaned up first, and he excused himself to escort his son to the restroom. While he was gone, Rossi sipped his coffee and grinned to himself. Truth be told, he liked the kid – liked kids generally, so long as they weren’t brats. Jack was hyper as all hell, but he seemed well-behaved under it all – he’d even thanked the waitress who brought his food. Speaking of the waitress, she came by to collect Jack’s plate, laughing at how quickly it was emptied.

“Is he usually a fast eater?” she laughed. Rossi shrugged – how would he know? She shook her head, smiling.

“Be glad it’s not the other way around. My girl’s about his age and she’s so darn picky – I have to hide vegetables in all sorts of crazy ways.”

 _Oh my God – she thinks he’s mine,_ Rossi realized, grin widening in amusement.

“Yeah, kids can be a handful,” he said neutrally.

“Well, anyway, I think it’s cute – you bringing him here with your partner. Same-sex couples should feel free to come to restaurants with their kids – some chain restaurants are so retrograde about it. The one I used to work at was the real pits. I’m happier working here, where everyone feels safe to be themselves.”

“Mm,” Rossi hummed in agreement, taking a big mouthful of coffee and drinking it slowly down. Hotch and Jack returned and the waitress left, but not before mouthing ‘cute’ at them. As Jack raced off to the ball pit, Hotch frowned.

“What was that about?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I think she thinks we’re on a date,” Rossi laughed. Hotch’s blush was as rewarding to see in person as it was to imagine through the telephone.

“We’re not, right?” he asked quietly. Rossi shrugged.

“I’m just here for the pancakes.”

Hotch couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to lead you on,” he insisted. “I don’t want to take advantage of your good will and – not reciprocate.”

“You seriously think I’m being nice to you just because I’m hoping you’ll put out? Come on, Aaron – straight guys can hang out with guys like me. No strings, no issues.”

“Guys like what? What _are_ you? Bisexual?”

“Flexible,” Rossi replied with a smirk. “I like what I like.”

“Which is…?”

“Eh… it varies. Right now, it’s lawyers who are too serious and good-looking for their own good. Tomorrow it might be Pancake Shack waitresses. Who knows?”

Hotch laughed awkwardly, looking down at his pancakes.

“Does it bother you? That I think you’re handsome? I’m not expecting anything, but I’m not going to lie and pretend you’re not hot stuff.”

“N-no… I mean, I don’t get it, but I guess it’s fine.”

“What part don’t you get, that a man finds you attractive?”

“More that anyone would describe me as ‘hot stuff.’ It’s… kind of laughable, really.”

“Why? You are. You’re a sexy man, Aaron Hotchner.”

Hotch snorted and shook his head.

“You need your eyes checked.”

Rossi just grinned in response. _Straight my ass._ Heterosexual men didn’t flirt with other men like this.

The moment was ruined by an alarm going off on Hotch’s phone. He jumped and grabbed it, biting off a mild curse. Parenting – it could really murder a good vocabulary of vulgarity. Rossi found the softened swear to be somewhat endearing, though.

“Problem?” he asked. Hotch shook his head.

“No, just – Jack’s playgroup meets in twenty minutes. I completely forgot it was today.”

“Need a lift?”

Hotch stared at him.

“I couldn’t ask that of you – not after everything… you bought us breakfast, Dave.”

“Mm. I also drove you here. I can drop you off, I don’t mind.”

Hotch hesitated, but the truth was, he was right. He’d taken the bus to Dave’s and he’d have to do the same to get to playgroup which meant taking the local route, which only ran every half-hour on weekends. With the car they could be there directly in time.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You’re really… thanks.”

“Hey, no problem. Go grab the kid and we can head out as soon as you want.”

Hotch felt strange as he went to get Jack. His chest felt… fluttery, for lack of a better word. He wasn’t used to someone making such a fuss over him without obviously doing it because of what happened to his family, to Haley. It was nice, but odd, and he didn’t know whether to trust it or not. He thought about it on the ride over, only speaking up to give directions to the community center. When they got there, Rossi insisted on walking father and son into the building and waving goodbye. When they got there, the kids were playing with water balloons on the community center’s lawn. Jack bounded off to join them and some of the other parents looked over to where Hotch and Rossi were standing.

“This was fun,” Rossi said honestly.

“Yeah – Jack seems happy… thanks again.”

“I mean it – if you ever need a hand or something, let me know. I don’t offer out of charity.”

Hotch grinned.

“No, you offer because I’m… how did you put it? ‘Hot stuff.’”

“Ha ha, guilty,” Rossi conceded. “Have a good time at playgroup, hot stuff.”

“Have fun wrangling your bear of a dog,” Hotch laughed in response, watching as the other man got into his car and pulled away. He was still smiling faintly when one of the playgroup moms came up to him.

“Hi, Aaron. Who’s the guy?”

He turned and smiled at the woman.

“Ah, JJ, that’s David Rossi. He’s… he’s a friend,” he said. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like… weird. I don’t know.”

Hotch shrugged.

“I don’t know either. How’s the family?”

“Good, everyone’s good,” she smiled, turning to look at the playing children. “Wow, Jack’s full of beans today.”

“Yeah… Dave let him eat chocolate pancakes this morning. I knew he'd get a sugar rush.”

“You spent the morning together?”

“Dave took us to breakfast.”

She gave him a look. Hotch shook his head.

“It’s not a pity thing. It’s not.”

“It better not be. You don’t deserve to used in someone else’s attempt at virtue signalling.”

Hotch laughed.

“Believe me, it’s nothing like that. Actually, it’s kind of funny – Dave has a crush on me.”

JJ stared at him.

“A what? Are you serious?”

“Mm hmm. He called me ‘hot stuff’ this morning. Don’t get the wrong idea – he knows I’m straight. We’ve talked about it and he’s fine with it. We’re honest with each other. He’s not really looking right now anyway, I don’t think. He just got out of a long-term relationship.”

“Wow,” she whistled. “That’s impressive. Talk about being adults about the whole thing. Jack seems to like him.”

“Jack likes his dog – that’s how we met. Dave has this… _huge_ dog. She’s ridiculously big – her name’s Tosca, but Jack calls her Taco and – I am so sorry, I’m talking way too much, aren’t I?”

JJ shook her head.

“Not at all. It’s great to see you socializing again… _hot stuff.”_

She winked at Hotch’s flabbergasted expression and walked back to join the kids, leaving him standing, stunned, in her wake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron Hotchner: ultimate cocktease lol. Also yay, more AU dogs.

* * *

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

Rossi looked up from scooping Tosca’s poop into a baggie. Derek Morgan was grinning at him, holding tight to the leads of his dogs. Rescue bully breeds of unspecified type, Butch and Bettie wagged and slobbered, straining to get a whiff of Tosca’s shit before it was disposed of. Rossi disappointed them, knotting the bag and straightening up with a groan. He chucked the bag in the trash and furrowed his brow.

“Lucky… lady?”

“You have The Look on your face. That only means one thing, man.”

Rossi snorted and shook his head. He clicked his tongue to get Tosca to heel, and unclipped her lead from her harness. Morgan did the same, and the trio of pups ran off together, a whirlwind of rough, exuberant play.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly. Morgan just grinned.

“Yeah, sure – oh, look out. Here comes the most pitiful dog in the world.”

Rossi turned and sighed. Emily Prentiss was coaxing a sad, cowering Weimaraner out of her car, his neck encircled in the cone of shame.

“What happened this time? Cookie hurt himself?” Rossi called. She shook her head.

“Seasonal allergies. He keeps licking his feet. Come on, baby.”

She unclipped his leash and watched, lips pursed, as Cookie grudgingly walked over to join the others, tail hanging low.

“He hates that stupid cone,” she grimaced. “Gosh, I should’ve named him Trouble. We’ve been to the vet three times this month.”

Rossi put a hand on her shoulder.

“Puppyhood’s like that. He’ll be fine once he grows up.”

She nodded, then paused, giving Dave a once-over.

“What did you do last night?”

Rossi raised his eyebrows.

“Why does everyone think I did something last night?”

“It’s The Look, man, I’m telling you,” Morgan insisted. “So, who is she?”

Rossi rolled his eyes.

“If you must know, it’s ‘he,’ not ‘she.’ And we didn’t _do anything._ I took him to Fat Marcie’s for breakfast.”

Prentiss burst out laughing.

“Are you dating a ten-year-old? That’s the worst location for a date I have ever heard _in my life._ And I had a friend who asked a date to be her plus one at a _funeral._ ”

“Yeah, well, his son wanted to play in the ball pit,” Rossi retorted defensively. Morgan’s eyes widened.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up. So not only are you dating a man, you’re dating a man with a kid? I go away for a week’s vacation and I get back and the world’s gone crazy.”

“Oh, Dave’s been known to get it on with men sometimes,” Prentiss interrupted. “Didn’t you see the picture on Facebook? He was at Pride.”

“I just thought he was there for the leather,” Morgan replied. “Look, I don’t have a problem with it. Not the guy thing. The kid thing – that’s nuts. You just got out of a committed relationship – now you’re throwing a kid into the mix? There’s back in the saddle and then there’s nuts, and this is _nuts._ ”

“If you saw his dad, you’d see why I’m doing it,” Rossi replied. “I’m willing to put in the work. Besides that, his kid’s alright. He likes dinosaurs.”

“You should take him to the museum,” Prentiss suggested. “They have a dinosaur exhibit on. Besides, that is a much more appropriate date location than a pancake hut.”

“It’s a shack,” Rossi groused. “Anyway, it’s not a _date_ date. He’s not gay, allegedly.”

“Allegedly?” Morgan inquired.

“Well, I mean, he says he’s straight, but then he flirts with me and gets all gooey when I speak Italian, so…”

“You’re already speaking Italian to him? Damn, you’ve got it bad,” Prentiss laughed. “He gets all gooey, huh? Meaning what, exactly?”

“I don’t know – gooey, you know. Receptive.”

Morgan snorted, throwing a stick as far as he could. Bettie and Butch bounded eagerly after it. Tosca had given up and laid down to enjoy the sun, and Cookie came back over to nose at Emily’s hand.

“What’s this dreamboat look like, anyway?” she pressed.

“Serious. Clean-cut. He looks like a fed, if I’m being honest. But it’s a good look.”

“An ‘allegedly’ straight fed with a kid. You know how to pick ‘em,” Morgan sighed, shaking his head.

“And I have the divorces to prove it. But I’m taking this one slow – I hope things work out.”

Rossi socialized some more with the dog park klatch, then brought Tosca home. She slept on the floor while he worked on his latest manuscript for a couple of hours. A couple of hours turned into a long stretch of writing, and when he next checked the time, it was after midnight. As he got up to make a cup of coffee his phone buzzed. He checked, and found a text from Hotch.

**Thank you for the ride. Jack ran all the sugar out of his system at playgroup. Sleeping now.**

Rossi smiled and called him. Hotch picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Kid’s out, huh?”

“Like a light. How was the dog park?”

“Typical. Tosca enjoyed herself, and I enjoyed gossiping. I still go to the park I used to go to, with her, so I meet people. Friends.”

“I thought you didn’t have any of those.”

“I don’t – not ones who don’t rib me about my love life anyway. They said I have a ‘look’ – shows if I’m getting any or not. Can’t be much of one – they figured I’d had a lady-friend over all night.”

Hotch laughed at that.

“I don’t know if I have one of those. A look, I mean. I think I’m pretty discrete.”

“You’d be one hell of a poker player. Unless I’m around to make you blush, that is. Hot stuff.”

Hotch laughed again.

“I really don’t get it. I’m not some sex god – I’m just a boring, middle-aged lawyer.”

“Maybe that’s my type. And you’re not boring, you’re just conventional.”

“That’s just as bad, isn’t it?”

“Not really. And you’re not totally conventional – you flirt with me, after all.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“Mm… maybe a little. People can flirt platonically. Is that okay?”

“Maybe a little,” Hotch murmured. “God, this is so weird.”

“Does it feel weird?”

“Not really – that’s the weird part. Why am I telling you? I am seriously dead on my feet.”

He paused to yawn, and Rossi frowned.

“When’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

“Honestly? Since before… everything.”

“That’s no good… you need your rest, _bello.”_

“Do you give everyone nicknames or just me?”

“Just the special people. _Bello._ Handsome. Hot stuff.”

“I’m going to have an ego the size of D.C. if you don’t stop.”

He could hear he smile in Hotch’s voice, and it made Rossi grin.

“I can’t help it. Flirting’s just my nature. Plus, you seem amused by it, and I’m fine with being a distraction from the day to day.”

“That’s hardly fair to you – you make it sound like you’re dancing bear."

“I mean, you’re half right. I could dance for you, if you want.”

The joke went over Hotch’s head, which didn’t surprise Rossi in the least, and was kind of cute.

“We can have a – what do kids call it these days? A bromance,” Hotch giggled, loopy from lack of sleep. He yawned again. “Ugh, don’t listen to me – I’m a mess when I’m this tired. I swear, I’m not normally like this.”

“It’s a pity. It’s a good look on you, all loose and happy. _Sei carino.”_

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Hotch protested fondly. He sounded pleased.

 _“Sommergimi di carezze fino a farmi affogare,”_ Rossi continued in a low growl. “Hot stuff.”

“Are you going to sweet talk me to sleep?”

“If you want. I don’t mind.”

Hotch yawned again.

“I’m really tired. I just wanted to thank you – today was… nice. For Jack and for me.”

“It was good to have company. I enjoyed it. Hey, I meant to ask – there’s a dino exhibit at the museum. Wanna bring Jack?”

“Only if you let me buy lunch this time. I feel like we’re taking advantage.”

“You’re not, but I won’t stop you buying. When are you free?”

Hotch thought about it for a while.

“Saturday afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Good – and really, Dave. Thanks.”

“No problem, _bello._ ”

“Oh no, not more Italian – I gotta go,” Hotch laughed. “Goodnight.”

“Night, handsome.”

After he hung up, he sighed.

“What are you doing, David Rossi?” he asked himself. “What do you think will come of this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Italian should say 'you're cute' and 'smother me with caresses until I suffocate.' But I speak very little Italian so this could well be wrong. Feel free to correct me if it needs correcting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in the next chapter ;)

* * *

The dinosaur exhibit was a hit. So was the amusement park. And the movies. And the pool. At some point, it dawned on Hotch that he had been going on non-dates with Dave for coming up on five months, and that the older man showed no sign of losing interest. Hotch, upon close self-examination, wasn’t losing interest either.

After over a year of nightmares, of mistrust, of assuming the worst and seeing flashes of the home invasion every time he closed his eyes, Hotch had thrown himself into the fantasy, the escapism, of Rossi’s interest and attention. There was no doubt his mental health had improved dramatically, having an excuse to be social again. There was no doubt it was good for Jack. Still, Hotch felt guilty – he’d been using Dave, for all intents and purposes, and no matter what Dave said, that bothered him.

Maybe that was what started it – worrying about Dave, thinking about Dave. Hotch thought about him a lot. Sometimes it was out of some sense of ethical concern – the question of if he was exploiting Dave’s loneliness – but often it was just casual. ‘Dave would like this salad recipe’ or ‘don’t forget to send that article to Dave’ were frequent internal memos in Hotch’s overtired, overworked brain. Single parenthood was hard, and work was grueling. The nights he fell asleep texting or calling Dave were some of the best he had, simply because they were a distraction.

Speaking of which, Hotch’s phone went off. It was late – almost two-thirty in the morning. Hotch had been looking over some legal documents that needed approval when Rossi’s text arrived.

At first, he thought the man was trying to send him a sexy picture. He was a little perturbed by how much the prospect amused and entertained him. _I’m too bored, clearly,_ he figured. Then text followed the photo – a mirror selfie of Rossi’s bare chest, fresh out of the shower.

**_eaten alive by mosquitos while walking tosca tonight_ **

That killed whatever mood was building. Hotch squinted at the tiny photo and typed ‘send close-up.’ The second picture clearly showed a constellation of bites all over Rossi’s torso. Hotch snorted.

**Looks painful**

**_no. just itchy :(_ **

**Put baking soda on it**. He put his phone aside and went back to work. It went off again. Sighing, Hotch called Rossi.

“Need me to come over and scratch you?” he teased, when Rossi answered.

“Would you?”

“Tosca’d be jealous.”

“Ha, you’re probably right. I’m trying the baking soda thing, by the way.”

“Good. Make a paste out of it with water.”

“Already done. So… what are you up to?”

Hotch smiled, leaning back in his desk chair.

“I _was_ working, until I started getting bombarded by risqué pictures of shirtless men.”

“Men? How many guys are we talking, here?”

Hotch snickered.

“Wouldn’t you like to know… what are you up to?”

Rossi hummed thoughtfully.

“I _was_ taking a shower. Now I’m lying in bed rubbing baking soda on my chest.”

“Kinky.”

“Oh, don’t knock it. It’s a look I pull off very well – bug bites and baking supplies.”

“Hmm, I bet.”

“I’d take a picture but I feel like one witness to me breading my naked body is enough for one day.”

“Poor Tosca.”

“Mm. She’s down at the foot of the bed, confused.”

Rossi proved it by sending a photo that not only revealed the mastiff’s drooping, worried expression, but also had his bare leg in frame from just above the knee downwards. Hotch wasn’t sure why the picture seemed so much more intimate than the other, until he realized the angle would have put the camera practically in Dave’s lap. He wondered if the man still had a towel on, and asked before thinking.

Rossi’s surprised laugh made his face flush.

“Really, Aaron? It seems a bit cliché to ask what I’m wearing, doesn’t it?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it how it sounded. It was inappropriate.”

“Oh, no, I’m not complaining. And no, I don’t have a towel on. I take baking soda application very seriously.”

There was a long pause. Long enough for Hotch to realize the direction the conversation was taking, and, moreover, that he had done nothing to put a stop to it. His voice caught in his throat and he stared down at his desk, phone gripped tightly in his hand.

“Aaron?”

Rossi’s voice was gentler, genuinely concerned, now.

“Are you still on the line?”

Hotch swallowed, throat surprisingly tight.

“Y-yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Dave, I –”

“I went too far. I’m sorry. It’s just…” Dave sighed. He sounded tired.

“You’re too easy to talk to, sometimes, you know?”

“… I know. So are you.”

Hotch hesitated, tracing the letterhead on one of the papers on his desk with his finger, trying to find some sense in the curlicues that he couldn’t find in his current conversation.

“I don’t mind,” he said haltingly. “When you go too far, Dave, I… I know I should, but I don’t and I – I don’t know what that means.”

Rossi hesitated.

“Does it… have to mean something? I mean – do you have to figure out what it means right away?”

“It seems unethical not to.”

“Right.”

They lapsed into silence again, listening to each other’s breathing.

“People don’t just… switch teams when they’re my age. It has to be a grief thing. From the – from when my wife – I’ve never… noticed things about men before.”

“And you notice men now.”

“I notice _you_ now, but you’re practically living in my pocket at his point – you’re the only person I talk to who treats me like a human being.”

“You don’t have to justify what you feel, Aaron.”

“Maybe not to you – I just… it feels… wrong. Not to… _question…_ just… after what happened. It feels wrong.”

Rossi’s voice softened further.

“I know what you mean,” he said. Hotch’s eyes widened.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah – after my first marriage fell apart. First time I started feeling anything for someone else I felt rotten about it. It felt like a betrayal of everything that had come before – more than that, it felt like a confirmation that I’d made a mistake in trying to fall in love in the first place. I was brought up Catholic – divorce was not something I saw as favourable, even as I signed the papers. If I was feeling then even a fraction of what you must feel after losing your wife, I imagine this is a really difficult time for you.”

The honest answer gave Hotch pause. He chose his next words carefully.

“How did you get the courage to try again?”

“I didn’t. Wife number two made the first move.”

“Oh.”

Hotch bit back a question, then changed his mind and blurted it out before he could lose his nerve.

“How’d you get her to?”

Rossi’s sharp inhalation made it clear that he understood exactly what Hotch was driving at.

“You… think you might want that, _bello?_ With… me?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch admitted. “I’m so – I’m so tired of feeling alone and you make everything seem so normal.”

“I see. By… making the first move, what exactly did you have in mind?”

Hotch faltered, casting a sidelong glance at his closed home office door.

“Maybe you could ask me what _I’m_ wearing?”

Rossi’s tone, when he replied, was rich and hot and _wanting._

“I can do that,” he breathed. “Tell me, Aaron. Talk to me. Please.”

Hotch slouched in his chair a bit, switching his phone to his other hand, so he could have his dominant one free. He drummed his fingers against his thigh. He tapped his foot. He felt simultaneously calm and terrified, the situation being so surreal.

“Okay,” he answered. “Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Houston, we have smut! (At last.)
> 
> The song that Rossi thinks of is Chet Baker's 'I Fall in Love too Easily'
> 
> Listen to it here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zrSoHgAAWo

* * *

_Hotch faltered, casting a sidelong glance at his closed home office door._

_“Maybe you could ask me what I’m wearing?”_

_Rossi’s tone, when he replied, was rich and hot and wanting._

_“I can do that,” he breathed. “Tell me, Aaron. Talk to me. Please.”_

_Hotch slouched in his chair a bit, switching his phone to his other hand, so he could have his dominant one free. He drummed his fingers against his thigh. He felt simultaneously calm and terrified, the situation being so surreal._

_“Okay,” he answered. “Okay.”_

* * *

“I’m at my desk. I’m wearing sleep pants and a t-shirt.”

Hotch’s voice was hushed, Rossi noticed.

“Kid’s not still up, is he?”

“No. He’s asleep. I’m in my home office. The door’s locked.”

Rossi smiled at the shy edge to Hotch’s voice, scratching idly at a mosquito bite on his chest.

“You sound nervous.”

“I am,” Hotch admitted.

“You don’t have to be. You’re so, so sexy – you couldn’t screw this up if you tried.”

Rossi didn’t bother to hide the want in his voice. Tosca was still staring at him, but he waved her away.

“Go to your bed,” he told her. Hotch furrowed his brow.

“Pardon?”

“Sorry. Talking to the dog. I’m alone now, too.”

“Right.”

Hotch swallowed audibly.

“And you’re naked.”

Rossi spread his legs a little, settling in and getting comfortable.

“I am indeed.”

“And are you… are you… hard?”

“I could be, if you give me a couple of minutes to get my motor running. Relax – you’re taking this way to seriously.”

Hotch huffed out a soft laugh of disbelief.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“No, Dave, I mean – phone sex. I don’t know what to _do._ What do you want me to say?”

Rossi thrilled at the possibilities, but reigned himself in.

“Trust me?”

It was a loaded question, given Hotch’s history, but he conceded.

“I do.”

“Tell you what – why don’t I take the lead on this?”

“Oh, would you? I don’t want to make it all about me, but –”

“What?”

“It’d just be nice to… to forget the stress _,_ for a while. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, I don’t mind. _Bello…_ I bet you’re tense from all that desk work. All that sexy lawyer stuff you do.”

Hotch snorted.

“Yeah, sure. Prosecutors are wild in the sack.”

“Mm, I bet you look good out there. I bet you win cases.”

“Sometimes.”

“God, I’d love to see you in action someday. Just see you being all commanding. Mr. Justice.”

Rossi rubbed his nipple softly and sighed into the phone.

“Mm… you get me so hot, Aaron.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah… handsome.”

For a while, they said nothing. Rossi just listened to the soft sound of Hotch breathing. It was strangely intimate, and quite erotic, just sharing the quiet. He carded his fingers through his pubic hair, traced his nails over his inner thighs, raised goosebumps on his skin. Then he took hold of himself, and broke the silence with a low moan that made Aaron’s breath hitch.

“Are you –?”

“I’m touching myself. I’m thinking of you – of how good you must look and how much I want you.”

“Shit, Dave…”

“How about you – are you touching yourself?”

“Not – ah – not quite. Haven’t worked up the nerve to commit,” he laughed shyly, “But I’m… oh God… I’m getting hard from this. Just from – from talking. Jesus.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah.”

“You deserve to be taken care of. I’d do that for you, _bello._ Touch yourself – touch yourself for me. Through your sleep pants.”

Hotch’s breathing changed, and Rossi shivered.

“How’s it feel?”

“Good – it feels good.”

“Do you like getting your nipples played with?”

“What?”

“Your nipples.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I – I guess?”

“I’d suck them. Roll them between my fingers – pinch them. Feel them get perky – I’d play with them. If you let me, I’d worship your chest, your arms – anything.”

Hotch muffled a moan.

“God, I want you. I want to suck you off.”

“Dave, you don’t have to –”

“I learned a trick or two in my youth. I could take you all the way to the root, Aaron. Suck you into my throat. Swallow you whole.”

“Oh, God.”

“Would you just lie there and take it, or would you want to fuck my face? I’d let you – you could get as rough as you want.”

“Slow – I’d do it slow,” Hotch breathed.

“Yeah… slow and deep – you could come in my mouth. I’d suck you dry – every last drop. Or maybe I’d let you pull back, slap my face with your cock. Let you come on my goatee.”

 _“Ffffuck,”_ Hotch hissed. “Yes!”

“You like that? You want to come on my face, hot stuff?”

“Uh huh.”

“I want you to. I want it so much. Fuck, you’re sexy. Wish I could see you.”

“You can,” Hotch forced out, voice strained. He fumbled with his phone. Rossi’s eyes widened when the picture arrived. It was blurry – taken in haste – the camera too close to Aaron’s dick to keep it in focus, but Dave could easily make out how wet it was with pre-cum, how red and thick and hard, and he could imagine it, on his tongue, in his throat, filling him up… he groaned, his own orgasm surprising him. Hotch called his name, asked him if he’d come. He responded with a picture of his own – of his fingers, coated with semen.

“Fuck, Dave, I’m close,” Hotch hissed, and Rossi could faintly hear the distinctive sound of beating off – of a spit-slicked cock fucking a fist – in the background.

“Come on, then, _bello. Sei bellissimo… tesoro mio…_ come for me, baby.”

Rossi held his breath at the sound of the other man going over – not wanting to miss a second of it. He felt a strange tightness in his chest – a feeling that went beyond sex or infatuation. It worried him – he knew his history of relationships. He was reminded of an old song. The riff from ‘I fall in love too easily’ drifted sluggishly through the post-coital haze that was settling on his mind.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice a low rumble.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah… I… wow. Sorry. I can’t – words.”

Rossi laughed at that.

“You’re all fucked out, huh?”

“Something like that.”

There was a smile in his voice, but there was tension, too.

“Hey, you don’t have to… to read into this. What we just did – it can be friends helping friends, if that’s what you want it to be.”

“What do you want it to be?”

“I… I want it to be something that happens again. I want it to be something that happens in person.”

“Dave…”

“It’s fine if you don’t. If you just need a little stress relief – some time to regroup and get back in the dating game… find a girl… I’m just saying – I can be there for you.”

“I feel like I’ve been back in the dating game for a while, with you. I mean – we have been dating, no matter what we’re calling it. This proves it.”

“This proves nothing you don’t want it to prove.”

“I’ve never been with a man – dated or even _noticed_ one. And Haley –” his voice caught, but he pushed through, “she was my first girlfriend. I’ve never… I’ve never faced this kind of… sexual uncertainty, for lack of a better word. It’s… somewhat anxiety-inducing.”

“I can see that.”

“And there you go again, being too understanding for your own good.”

Hotch paused, then sighed.

“I liked this. I don’t know what that says about me but… I’d like it to happen again too. I’m not sure if I could reciprocate, if it happened in person, but… I don’t know. I’d like to try.”

Rossi was grinning so wide his face hurt.

“That’s great. I mean – I’d love to try.”

 _You sound desperate,_ he thought, but if he did, Hotch didn’t seem to mind much.

“Not that I don’t like having him around, but is there someone who could take Jack for an evening?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing crazy. Just… a nice night. I know a great little restaurant I could take you to. We could take it slow… see how it goes. It could be a date – a real date – if you want.”

Hotch hesitated. The longer the silence wore on, the sicker to his stomach Dave felt. Then –

“That would be great,” he confessed. “I’m sorry – it’s strange, still. Dating. I know Haley’s gone but –”

“This doesn’t erase what you shared with her. But you don’t deserve to be unhappy – and nobody would want that, who loves their partner.”

“I know. She’d… probably be surprised that I’d try dating a man, but I know she’d want me to do what’s right for myself and for Jack. And it is right – for both of us. You’ve been so good to him – it really means a lot to me.”

“Well, it’s been good for me – having a family to look after. You might just domesticate me yet.”

Hotch chuckled, exhaustion in his voice.

“I am dead tired. And I’m… sticky.”

“Mm… I’m in the same boat. Baking soda and semen don’t generally mix well. Still, I’d do it again.”

“Me too.”

They said their goodbyes and then hung up, and Rossi plodded over to his bathroom for another shower. He caught sight of himself in the mirror on the way, not eager to have to treat all his mosquito bites again, and paused upon noticing the look in his eyes.

_‘I fall in love too terribly hard… for love to ever last’_

Would this turn out like his last romances? They’d all felt like ‘the one’ at the time. God, and now there was a kid involved, so if he crashed and burned, he’d take a whole family out with him.

He wanted to make this one work. He _had_ to make this one work.

“No shortcuts,” he vowed. “He needs you to fix things, to work hard – you do it. No excuses.”

The heart of an old romantic, he thought, shaking his head as he stepped into the hot spray cascading down from the shower-head. The uncertainty scared and entranced him in equal measure. He refused to examine the other possibility too closely – that Hotch had just been curious, and would realize he didn’t like men when he actually had to try kissing one. Rossi wouldn’t blame him – but it would break his heart.

He remembered the warmth of Aaron’s voice in the aftermath of orgasm, how he’d finally sounded like a human being, and not an automaton working himself to an early death. He remembered how much it had felt like an honour, being the one to bring back that spark.

No doubt about it, if things didn’t work out, Rossi’d be a wreck for a long, long time. Honestly... they both would be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that Rossi's a Vietnam Vet. My dad's one as well, and I have All the Feels™ about veterans in general so yeah. I just love that they made that part of Rossi's backstory.
> 
> Also gah this is so sappy but I just have so many feels and yeah. Just want the boys to be happy.

* * *

A few weeks after the phone call, Hotch watched Jack retreat into JJ's house. The boy had a backpack in one hand, a plush toy in the other, and no sense of the trust it was taking for his father to let him go, even for one night.

“Thanks again for agreeing to take Jack for the evening.”

JJ shrugged, tucking strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

“No problem. I just can’t believe you’re going through with this.”

Hotch laughed self-consciously.

“I can’t either, if I’m being honest. But… it works out. Me and him. It feels… normal.”

JJ smiled kindly. She’d seen the change in the widower, from broken-hearted to whole again. She’d seen the change in Jack, too. The date night would be in his best interest.

“Normal is good,” she nodded gently. “Try not to worry too much – have a good time, okay?”

Hotch gave his word that he’d try.

As he took the elevator up to Rossi’s apartment, he swallowed the building anxiety he felt. He wasn’t comfortable leaving Jack somewhere he couldn’t be at his side in an instant if need be if home intruders, bad guys, tropical storms, or monsters under the bed came to call.

He straightened his tie and shouldered his day-bag, and when he reached Rossi’s floor, he knocked firmly on the door like a man unafraid.

Rossi greeted him with a grin.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Nice suit."

"Am I overdressed? I wasn't sure what to..."

"You look great. Here, you can just drop your bag – I’ve got us reservations at –”

“Could we – sorry. Could we maybe just order in?”

Rossi’s brow creased.

“Aaron…? Are you…?”

“I’m okay. Just… it’s a lot. I thought I’d feel… ready to be in public, but I don’t and – Jack’s – I’ve never left him for an evening since – sorry, can I try this again? I swear, I sounded smooth when I ran over this in my head.”

Rossi shook his head.

“No need. I’ll call to cancel. We can order in – Thai okay?”

“Thai would be great, thanks.”

Hotch sat stiffly on the sofa, and belatedly noticed something missing in his surroundings.

“Where’s Tosca? Or Twinkie, for that matter?”

“They’re at my ex-wife’s. She and I are trying a custody-sharing thing. Trying to be civil about everything. They’re as much hers as mine, and they missed her.”

“Right. And… does she know you have company?”

“Yes,” Rossi admitted. “Though she doesn’t know it’s of the male variety. Or that it’s as serious as it is.”

“How serious?” Hotch asked. Rossi sent his food order and set aside his phone, retrieving two cold beers from the fridge. He passed one to Hotch and sat down on the couch with a huff.

“Honestly? You’re setting the pace, here. I’m happy with whatever we do – whatever you want. If you must know, I think I’m… kind of falling for you.”

Hotch’s eyes widened, and he swallowed, but Rossi didn’t miss the way his pupils dilated.

“Well, I… appreciate you being straight with me.”

Rossi snorted.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

That startled a laugh out of Hotch who hid his face behind his hand, chuckling.

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

He stilled at the feeling of Rossi’s hand on his knee. He looked down at it, pointedly.

“Uh… Dave?”

Rossi patted his kneecap.

“Relax. I’m not getting fresh. I just wanted to say, I’m glad you came. It’s brave of you.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it _brave…”_

“Aaron, I’ve stared down enemy fire before. I think I’m a good judge of what is and isn’t brave. Leaving Jack with JJ for the night – it’s gonna feel weird. It’s gonna feel hard. That’s okay – after what you’ve been through – what you’ve lost – you’d be nuts not to feel those things.”

He pulled his hand away and settled back into the couch, nursing his beer. Aaron thumbed at the neck of the bottle, lost in thought.

“I forget you were a marine,” he said, then, softly. “I think… I think it helps. Knowing you could keep Jack safe in a crisis.”

“I can protect my own, sure.”

It was only as he said it that Rossi realized how it sounded. He looked away with a wince.

“Not that – I didn’t mean –”

“It’s fine. It’s… good – I like the idea of that. Of… us. Family. It’s… you’ve made a world of difference for me and my son. I’m truly grateful for that.”

Rossi scratched his goatee, opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again. He set his beer down on the coffee table, rose to his feet, and walked out of the room. Confused and a little unsettled, Hotch sat in silence, beer sweating in his hand. After a tense minute, Rossi returned, a flyer in his hand.

“So… in light of everything you said… I was debating telling you and Jack about this and… well, you can read it.”

Rossi handed Hotch the paper and the younger man looked it over.

“Camping weekend?”

“Mm. It’s for veterans and their – and their loved ones. It’s Veterans’ Day weekend – we meet at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and then drive this bus to a campground a couple of hours from D.C. that’s open year ‘round. There’s a cook-off and the place usually has pumpkins left over from Halloween in this pumpkin patch so there’s a pumpkin carving contest too. We end it with a talent show – just for fun, no competition – and we pass the hat, and the money we raise goes to helping homeless vets. I’ve been going every year for five years now. I’d…  I’d really like you and Jack to come, if you’re free.”

Hotch stared down at the picture of the campsite for a long time.

“You’re not just asking me about camping.”

Rossi sighed taking another swallow of beer. He cleared his throat and leveled his eyes at Hotch’s.

“No, I’m not.”

“I… I’d like to talk to Jack about it. I’m pretty sure he already thinks of you as family, but the idea of me _dating_ you might take him some time to understand.”

“Of course. But do you… do you want to? Make things official? Not for Jack’s sake – I’m just talking about you, here. Do you feel like I’m pressuring you?”

Hotch shook his head.

“I think you’re being perfectly reasonable. And I would like to. It’s… going to be a bit weird – a bit hard to adjust to – but… you make me happy. I think I’m… falling for you, too.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Rossi got the take-out and returned to the couch, handing Hotch his carton of food. They chatted as they ate, about lighter, less-personal things. It was domestic and, Hotch found, very natural. Once dinner was done and the garbage was cleared away, Rossi nodded at Hotch’s hand, which had been tapping, unbeknownst to Hotch himself, on the cellphone in his pocket.

“You wanna call JJ?”

“Is it – am I crazy? I just… I _know_ he’s fine, but I just want to make sure that Jack –”

“Makes perfect sense to me. You call. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Rossi left Hotch on the couch and retreated to the bathroom. Once there, he stripped and turned on the water, but paused when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He stared down his reflection – took a deep breath.

He felt relieved that Hotch agreed to come to the veterans’ event, and that Jack would get to meet some of his buddies’ grandkids, but it was a big step, actually classifying what he had with Hotch as _That Kind of Serious ™. _Not that he didn’t want to – he did, but he hadn’t even taken his _wife_ to the event, not that she’d ever implied she wanted to go. Still, maybe that said something as to why they wound up divorced. Rossi considered himself to be a pretty open guy, but when he stopped to think about it, he supposed he had walls up that he didn’t acknowledge. This thing with Hotch was starting to knock at least some of them down.

“This is good for both of us,” he told himself. “I’m allowed to need it as much as he does.”

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“I uh… I called. Jack’s fine. Sorry, if I –”

“No, no, you’re fine. Come in – if you want.”

There was a lengthy silence, and Rossi could _feel_ the hesitation, the tension buzzing in the steamy air of the bathroom. Then, cautiously, the door opened.

Hotch wouldn’t look at him, focusing instead on a spot just over his right shoulder, but at least he was giving it the old college try.

“You… you aren’t in the shower,” he mumbled.

“Got distracted thinking about you. About us.”

He placed a hand on Hotch’s bicep, rubbing gently.

“Hey… look at me?”

Hotch met his eyes.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you tell me, okay? But also if you like something. Let me know what’s going on in your head, alright?”

“Alright.”

“If you want, I can get dressed right now and we can relocate to the couch. Watch a little TV. Maybe make out.”

“We’re not teenagers,” Hotch muttered.

“Do you have to be a teenager to make out in front of the TV? I must’ve missed that memo.”

“No, I meant… look, that all sounds great, but…”

Rossi’s heart sank.

“But?”

“I think I like how you look right now.”

His voice shook when he said it, and it took all of Rossi’s self-control to hold back, wait, take it slow.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked thickly.

Hotch hesitated – then, in a show of bravery that quite impressed Rossi, shook his head.

“Not until I even things up,” he said, and took off his tie. He started on his shirt buttons, next, and Rossi watched, slack-jawed, as he undressed, ears red with embarrassment.

“There,” he said, once nude. “You can kiss me, now.”

Rossi was all too happy to oblige. Hotch was stiff in his arms at first, so he kept it gentle, letting the other man get used to the feeling of kissing someone with facial hair. Gradually, Hotch started to kiss back, slowly at first, and then hungrily. Rossi could taste the loneliness, there – taste how long it had been since someone had taken the time to make the widower feel good.

“Aaron?” he murmured, moving to nip at Hotch’s bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Uh huh?”

“Still want your cock sucked?”

Hotch swore, hips canting forward involuntarily.

“Y-yeah. Should we – condom?”

“I’m clean. You?”

“Mm hmm,” Hotch managed, eyes tight shut, hands gripping, white-knuckled, on the towel rack behind him.

“Okay.”

Rossi kicked the bathmat over to protect his knees from the hard floor. He knelt gingerly, joints giving a brief twinge of protest, and took his first proper look at Hotch’s dick.

“Shaky phone pictures really didn’t do this justice,” he mused, leaning in and giving it a cursory lick. Hotch reacted like a man electrocuted, head snapping back hard against the wall with a _thunk_.

“Ouch – that sounded like it hurt. You okay?” Rossi asked, concerned. Hotch managed a weak nod.

“Please just… don’t tease. It’s been a _long_ time.”

“Fine by me.”

Rossi made good on his word, easing into deep-throating like the seasoned pro he was. He always liked to give as much, if not more, as to receive in the bedroom. Guys, girls, it didn’t matter. It was a point of pride, before – he wanted to be a notch in the bedpost that was hard to forget – but with Aaron it was different. He just wanted to make him feel good, feel wanted.

Hotch was biting his lip hard in an effort to keep still, so Rossi coaxed him into moving his hips, grabbing a handful of his bare ass and guiding him – back and forth, nice and slow. He pulled back and rubbed Hotch’s cockhead over his lips, kissing the tip.

“Mm… you feel so good in my throat.”

“You – _uh_ – you actually like that?”

“Oh, yeah. Really turns me on.”

Hotch snorted, shaking his head.

“God, that’s still weird,” he laughed.

“Maybe a bit, but it’s good, right?”

“Mm… it feels amazing. You’re… _oh!_ Talen – talented.”

Rossi lapped at Hotch’s balls groaning against his hot flesh as he reached down to jerk himself off. He guided Hotch’s hands to his hair, revelling in the pinpricks of pain that sparked on his scalp when Hotch clenched his fists involuntarily, hips straining forwards. Rossi backed off enough to grab Hotch’s cock by the base, slapping it against his lower lip and tongue, letting the mixture of pre-cum and drool run down into his goatee.

“Fuck,” he breathed, letting Hotch’s cockhead trace over his mouth, cheeks, and nose, leaving pearlescent trails in its wake. “I’m so hard, _bello._ So hard for you.”

“Dave,” Hotch responded, beyond complex sentences. His world had reduced down to the hot breath and skillful tongue working him over, pulling him towards that dizzying edge.

“I’m gonna –”

“Gonna come? Please, come on my face. Please, it’s so hot – you’re so hot. That’s it, handsome. Give it to me, give me your load.”

Hotch didn’t need more coaxing than that, spurting onto Rossi’s eager mouth, his chin. Rossi slicked his fingers through the mess, rubbing his nipple with his soiled hand while reaching for his cock with the other. He only needed to jerk himself twice before he was coming onto the bathmat, the cool tile floor, slumping forwards, face smashed against Hotch’s leg, kissing clumsily, afterthoughts through the aftershocks.

When his brain came back to his body, he pulled back, and the look of raw, uncertain hope in Hotch’s eyes made his chest ache.

 _“Bello…”_ he murmured. “How’d I get so lucky, finding a guy like you?”

Hotch managed a shy smile.

“I could ask the same thing.”

Rossi took his hand and pressed a kiss to his wrist, his palm, his fingers. His head buzzed with things he’d say if he was younger, more verbose.

_I don’t think I’d have been able to cope, if you’d decided you didn’t want to try making this work. I know you need me but I need you just as much. You and Jack, you’re family to me. You’re my family._

“Shower with me?” he said instead. Hotch nodded, eyes half-lidded.

“Still feel up to your earlier suggestion?” he ventured, that odd blend of coy and composed common in lovers with enough experience to be sure of themselves, but treading unfamiliar waters. Rossi was new terrain, as far as Hotch was concerned. He liked what he’d seen, but he wasn’t naïve. There was a lot more ahead of them than behind.

Rossi furrowed his brow.

“My earlier…?”

“Cuddling and making out on the sofa.”

Rossi grinned at that.

“I take it you like being here, then? With me.”

“Mm… maybe I’m just easy,” Hotch teased, and it was good, to laugh like that. Be silly, stark naked in the steam-filled room. He felt like a teenager again. He felt like _himself_ again. As he stepped into the hot spray, he felt some of the grief wash off him. It wasn’t gone – he doubted he’d ever lose it all, and supposed it would be an insult to Haley’s memory if he did, but it didn’t feel like such a crushing weight, not when Dave was there, wrapping an arm around him, anchoring him. He turned his head and kissed his taste off Dave’s open mouth, and let the sensation of safety blanket them both, chasing off his ghosts.


End file.
